Aftermath's Oddities
by Nowhere Boulevard
Summary: 20 years have passed since the defeat of the Kishin. Kid has taken over his father's position, the headmaster for five years. It's a rather comfortable job, really- until six new kids show up for the next school year that will change the DWMA forever. (Follows six OC's of mine. No self-inserts, minimal/no Mary-Sues. Rated T for Stein's "kid" and general foul-mouthedness.)
1. An Easy Decision?

_The atmosphere at the renowned Death Weapon Meister Academy was much more relaxed once the kishin Asura was defeated. In fact, the incident had become only a source of stories for parents hoping to seem cool to their children, and even with the common knowledge that the battle was fought with only three weapon/meister pairs, it now seemed that Asura had actually fought a small army. _

_New students had poured into the academy, each desperately hoping to be like _the_ Maka Albarn-Evans someday and sending furtive glances about in the halls for a glimpse of the heroine's elusive young daughter, Lily. Nobody bothered to look for the boisterous children of Black*Star and Tsubaki. Attention was their forte, even in battle. A set of the loudest prankster twins to ever be conceived, they were impossible to miss. Kid's son was also a rather well-known spectacle, what with his pink-tinged, always unruly hair with black lines of Sanzu and his father's gold eyes. He was quiet, structured and intelligent- a wallflower in many ways, but being the headmaster's son, nobody could forget his presence. _

_Zipping through the bright halls of the academy was a dull, comfortable pulse of the soul wavelength of Death himself- Death the Kid, that is. With the younger soul taking over his father's position, there was a definite crackle of life that had shot through Death City- life and activity and an overabundance of Nevadan sunshine. Also unnoticed in the halls, however, were many new students waiting to be matched with a compatible soul… _

"Yes, yes, everyone gather 'round," boomed a blue-skinned man at the front of the room, standing beside a tall reaper, who nodded to him as he stepped back.

Death stepped forward, his usual slight scowl replaced with the ghost of excitement. "Ladies and gentlemen, weapons and meisters, I have invited you here today to assign you all a partner. As you know, each one of you is either a weapon or a future meister. To assign you to yo-"

"Get on with it or get it over with!" shouted a slim girl with midnight-blue hair from the front row. She was surrounded with doting boys (and a few girls), her head held in the cocky manner of someone who knows their own importance very well.

The young shinigami nodded in a fatherly fashion to the blue-haired girl. "I will be finished soon, Blue*Star. Now, remember, you get many things from your mother. You must learn her gentility and humility before you are able to learn anything else," he said with a sigh, addressing her personally and quietly. "Your father used his arrogance to become great, his willpower to be good. Do not become so selfish that you are hindered." Blue*Star nodded, rolling her eyes after the reaper had turned back to the crowd.

"In any case," the shinigami continued, "You must mingle for a while. See how your personalities meld and mix. Once your choice is narrowed to five potential partners or less, I would like you to stand on the far side of the room. Good luck."

The room fell silent and still for a split second before erupting into chaos. Kid cringed at the disorderly, writhing mass of students before him and turned to watch the mirror. Very few people noticed the pink-haired figure in the reflection.

One of those few was a shy girl, hiding under a long brown curtain of hair and smiling gently at the mirror. The kind, stuttering Crona Gorgon, her hero. Not a hero in the Kishin Incident, but a hero nonetheless, she'd been raised on stories of the half-witch's bravery and backbone in the toughest of times.

She straightened, and with a sharp intake of breath, made her way to the nearest person to herself wearing a pin reading "Weapon" in tall red letters.

"Hello." Her voice was soft and high-pitched.

The other student nodded to her coldly in acknowledgement.

"What's your name?" She asked.

The white-blonde weapon shook her head. "Are you mocking me?"

"No…" The shy girl shrunk visibly. "I… don't mean to be a bother…"

"Oh," The blonde chuckled a little. "No, you're not. I'm Lily Albarn-Evans. I thought you were another faker, using me to meet my mum."

A look of stunned recognition passed over the quiet meister's face. _Lily. _Her mother's fame had made her an antisocial recluse, trying to hide from the recognition and the false friends. She was unapproachable, everyone knew. _So stupid of me to not recognize her,_ the brown-haired girl thought with a grimace.

"Certainly not, Lily… I'd best be going?"

Lily nodded sadly. "Best not to give anyone else the wrong ideas. I only talk to the other two pair's kids, so far. Nice to know that they're not the only ones who are worth it."

"Okay. Bye," the brunette said with an obligatory nod.

"Wait, you never told me your name," Lily called.

"Kata," The girl said as she sank into the crowd.

Kata smiled nervously as she searched for another friendly-looking weapon, chuckling slightly at the irony of the statement. Everyone seemed occupied. _Nobody ever has time for me, though… But I thought it would be different here. I'm already in the EAT program. Wouldn't people respect me?_ Scanning the room, no unoccupied weapon was in sight. She let out a resigned sigh.

"Excuse me."

"Yes?" Kata spun a bit too quickly and crashed into a boy only a few inches taller than her. _A weapon,_ she noticed as she quickly backed up. "Sorry, sorry. I-"

"It's alright," He said with an awkward grin. However, it was, judging by his flushed cheeks and surprised expression, absolutely _not_ alright.

"I'm Allen, by the way," the weapon added. "Looking for a meister. You're a meister, right?"

"Right. Um, okay. Which program?"

"EAT. My weapon form is pretty flipping cool," he said with a mischievous grin. He had braces, Kata noticed.

"You have me intrigued," she said, shyness aside. Hints and mystery excited her like nothing else.

"Hold out your hands."

Kata did.

Light flashed. The boy in front of her disappeared and Kata found herself wearing a pair of long black gloves. Protruding from the black leather fingertips were six-inch blades, curved into cruel, blood-red points. She felt a strap gently resting on the small of her back, connecting the gloves like a hug. "Holy shinigami," she muttered. "This is pretty badass."

Allen's face shone in the blades like a hologram. "I know, right? Totally makes up for my lame-ass face."

Kata chuckled. "Get back to your human form, your face isn't lame."

"Fine, fine," Allen said, obviously not as irritated as he made himself sound.

Kata smiled as the short boy appeared in front of her again. He seemed easygoing enough, despite his angular, sharp form and the stark contrast of his curly black hair and pale skin. "Hello again," she said.

_I'm actually talking to someone I just met… confidently._

Allen smirked. "You like?"

Kata shrugged, smiling. "You could say that."

A flash of light, and she was wearing the gloves again.

"Usually I have to stretch like hell to fit over someone's hands," the weapon said, a hint of a smirk in his metallic voice. Kata just shrugged. He was pushy. She liked it. _That may come in handy- literally. _She was known by the friends she'd left as being very indecisive, always looking for the perfect solution to every problem. This Allen seemed rather compatible.

"That was easy, wasn't it?"

Kata startled. It wasn't as simple as she would like to get used to clawed gloves talking to her, meister or not- even if she did have a tendency to talk to inanimate objects. "What was easy?"

Allen went back to human form.

"I can sense a basic idea of people's feelings," he explained. "That's why, even though I didn't get the most fantastic grades, I was put in the EAT program."

Kata inwardly grimaced. _He's the perfect weapon, but why on earth must he be a stupid—_

Her thoughts were interrupted. "I felt your disappointment. You should learn to hide these things better. You practically scream your feelings at people. In any case, my grades were from lousy concentration. I'm not an idiot." Allen seemed a little hurt, but his words sounded memorized and dull, as if he had explained this hundreds of times.

Kata nodded, unsure of what to say. Memorized sentences confused her to no end, as she mainly relied on facial expression and tone to understand and take a conversation somewhere acceptable. There was nothing to draw from, no shine in his eyes, no twitch of his lips. He was a puzzle, and a good one at that.

Allen grinned, his embarrassment fading. "Ever resonated with someone before?"

He felt a sharp stab of fear shoot through Kata. "Yes…" she muttered. Her discomfort prickled through the air like invisible thorns. "It… didn't go well."

Allen nodded. _Crap. I hate making people feel bad. It's itchy…_

Kata's odd nature led her on. "She would have been in the NOT program."

"Would have been?" Allen asked, his discomfort in her word choice twisting through the air to entwine with hers.

White-hot pain and the silky dampness of grief shot through the air with such intensity that people around the pair started shifting awkwardly. Allen doubled over in her memory.

"She… didn't make it." Kata felt her eyes grow hot, her face freezing.

"Oh…" He croaked from the floor, eyes shut tight. _How does she deal with this, still standing? How does she not let this show?_

"You're… stronger than you look… think about puppies… kittens… anything… please…"

The feeling lessened slightly. He stood, his lungs aching for air.

"It's not okay," he said, "But it can be."

Kata nodded acknowledgement and shook her head like a dog, her hair going everywhere, as if that made the pain go away. Allen let out a short breath.

"Please try not to do that during battle," he breathed, his cynical nature peeking back out, supposing it was safe.

"Right." The girl looked as if nothing was wrong.

_The hell? How does she—?_

"I see you've found each other," came the voice of the shinigami himself, towering slightly above them. "I knew this would happen."

Allen sensed a repressed worry behind the reaper's thick wall of wavelength.

A/N: Hey, guys. This is my first official Soul Eater fanfiction. It's kind of a plot bunny, so if it makes no sense, I'm terribly sorry. Basically, it takes place about 20 years after the series ended. Lord Death has retired, leaving Kid in his place as the DWMA's headmaster. The originals' kids are going to school there- Lily Albarn-Evans, Blue*Star and Grey*Star (twin children of Black*Star and Tsubaki), and Theodore Gorgon, the son of Death the Kid and Crona- excuse me as I basically just promote every ship ever.

However, the series focuses on six newbies- Allen Callaghan, Kata Monet, Solus Stein, Jono Glenn, Alice Julian, and Jane Ferrel, respectively, with Lily, the Stars, and Theo hanging out with some background appearances.

So pop some popcorn, sit back, and enjoy.

(If you don't enjoy, do tell me why so that I can fix it. Constructive criticism is extremely helpful! I have no beta reader, so all mistakes are mine. Spell-check and Soul Eater just don't mix, _ja_?)

-Nowhere


	2. Can Twisted Souls Entwine?

The crowd shifted uneasily, parting slightly to let a white-haired boy through, a meister with no weapon but scars and stitches running the length of his arms and the back of his neck. He looked very much like a young Franken Stein, apparent to everyone around him- for that he was.

Insane lights flashed in his eyes. He ran his tongue over his upper lip and snorted in annoyance at the parting crowd, eyeing the shaken weapons with an expression like a starving man caged in front of a feast. "I need a weapon," he hissed at one girl in the small gathering. "Step forward."

The shaggy-haired girl did as told, hiding her fear very well. Rumors had circulated for almost a month about how Dr. Stein's young clone was attending the DWMA.

"Transform," the insane child ordered.

Light flashed. In his hands lay a broadsword, which was immediately thrown to the ground in disgust. "I can't fight with this," he muttered. The shaken sword jumped to her feet, brushing herself off and running back through the crowd. Her terror was felt dully at the other side of the room by the sharp senses of a curly-haired boy.

"Next."

A burly boy with a heavy jaw and eyebrows that sunk over his eyes stepped forward. "I-I'm a modified scythe—"

He was cut off with a wave of the scarred boy's hand. His mad eyes glinted ferociously as he scanned the crowd-

They stopped.

Squinting, one could say they softened.

A boy with long, gold hair covering his eyes stood at the far end of the crowd, throwing out a soul wavelength that purred like a radiator.

_What is that?_ The clone stared at him. _Calming? Exorcism? Is he… trying to… fix me?_

He stepped towards the smaller boy. "Who are you," he whispered, brushing the boy's shirt with one finger. Not a movement, no trembling, not heavy breathing… A flash, and the boy became a long, brutal-looking knife with spiraling gold vines running down the handle. "You're fit for a king," he muttered, playing with the blade.

He cut gently into the tip of his own skin, smirking at the sight of his own blood.

"That's enough of that, Stein," the weapon said metallically, transforming back to a human.

"My name… is not… Stein." It was a low growl like an angry dog, fury laced through every word.

The blond boy tilted his head slightly, still calm and unwavering. "Everyone calls you tha-"

"Solus," the meister interrupted. "While alone."

"Alright, Sol."

"Solus."

"Okay, Sol," Jono grinned.

"Who are you? Why are you so calm around me?"

The taller boy shrugged. "Jono," he answered. "And I'm in EAT because I can undo some of the damage in souls. I used to be called Stitches."

Sol chuckled cynically at the nickname. "Sounds better for me," he said with a plastered smile as he rolled up one pants leg. Wound about his ankle was a purplish dragon of scar tissue. "I was bored."

Jono ran his finger over it, turning the discolored flesh shining silver. "I'd like to see you when you're excited."

**Crash.**

A heavy figure fell atop Jono's bent form, crashing him to an awkward position that left his face smashed against Sol's shoe.

Sol hissed. "Get the hell off of him."

The girl stood slowly, like it hurt, brushing the dirt from the grey shirt emblazoned with the logo of some television show that Sol had never heard of.

"Hey! Dude, what's up with your face? Looks like it hurt," the girl piped happily, unaware of Sol's cold glare. "You okay, Stitches?" She added to Jono, still bouncing on the balls of her feet.

"Yes… I think so…" Jono grumbled as he got up, holding his arm. The lining of Sol's dress shoe made a pattern on the side of his face.

"Great! Are you patching him up, then?"

Sol's glare intensified at the question, directed at Jono.

"No," Jono said calmly. "I'm his weapon."

The excited girl's face washed with white. "He must be very messed up, then, dear," she said in a softer voice, inaudible to Sol. "Be careful. He did that to himself, no?"

Jono nodded slowly. "I can handle him when he's with me. When he's not, that's when I'm worried."

"I'll help, if I can go without driving him crazier than he is." She grinned.

"Thanks, Alice. I'm good, though."

Sol raised his eyebrows at the boy. "You finished?"

Jono laughed. "Yes, yes, I'm done. This is a childhood friend of mine, Alice. She coined my nickname. I met her at piano tutoring with Soul."

"A pianist," Solus mused, a cynical expression shadowing his face. "What else, yoga instructor? Zen Buddhist? Fucking water ballerina?"

"Actually, I'm Mormon," Jono replied, gently composing his words in an assertively kind way. "And I can't swim, not since I broke my ribs in a fight. They didn't heal right."

Sol nodded, apparently impressed that the calm, kind boy fought in more than just knife form. "I'll fix you up, if you want me to. It'll just require a hammer and a scalpel and scissors, maybe anesthesia, not too sure-"

Jono shook his head. "I'd rather not, I'm fully functional like this. Anyway, the sound of a hammer that close to my heart is _not_ appealing."

"But…" Sol protested, the insane light returning to his eyes. _His heart would be beautiful, not like my ugly old thing… I want to feel it, see it, break it… That would be nice, yes? Call him Stitches for a better reason…_

Jono sent his soul wavelength outwards again. This would be a very tiring job: he knew it, especially as he began searching the other's form with his soul, looking for concealed stitches-

An unusual bubble of anger peaked inside of him. "You idiot," he scolded, wrapping the other with his wavelength until he felt about to pass out. "Your heart is a mass of stitching. How the hell did you manage that?"

"…Vivisection," Sol muttered, the look on his face alerting Jono to back off. He was about to fall asleep- the weapon's power did that if too highly concentrated. The white-haired clone staggered limply as Jono released him.

"Oh, you stupid fucker," Jono whispered, catching him as he fell. "What have you done…?"


End file.
